I watched a Criminal Minds episode with my mother tonight. It was about schizophrenic man plagued by his hallucinations to kill. At the end of the show one finds out he didn’t just develop it after a traumatic event from his childhood, but that he had it since he was born likely.
My mom and I know a lot about mental illnesses. She knows them due to her line of work. Me? It is a combination of being mentally ill, hearing information from her and just researching it on my own.
Well, in any case, often we can pity cases. I can relate to some cases be it minimum or greatly. Well, while many who know little about schizophrenia might have found the episode weird – particularly the ending… my mom and I just found it tragic.
Those kind of episodes we wind up talking about. Somewhere in the conversation I said something along the lines of, “I know how that is!” My mom had commented how at a young age usually when little kids see things, they have no idea what is going on so nothing is ever really done about it. (Or at least it was something along those lines.)
I might have mentioned on here before about how I saw things when little. While I never thought of them as real – well, okay sometimes I considered the possibility – many children likely would mistake hallucinations they see as real. Plenty of adults do even.
I find it really sad for kids who have schizophrenia. When at that age a lot of signs regarding mental illnesses are dismissed. I know a lot of signs in my case (bipolar II) were dismissed as me being just a kid. The suffering for a schizophreniac, though… apply that to a child. Such a harsh thing. Many would likely overlook the signs. Kid talking to himself and seeing people who aren’t there? Oh, he has an imaginary friend!
Oi.
Yeah though… it is amazing the things we miss. It isn’t until recently my mom and I believe I was bipolar even as a small child. Things I often did at school when older that caused trouble… it was all because I couldn’t express myself anymore.
As a child, you get away with certain things. Then, when you reach a certain age, you are expected to behave and mature. Well, that just added on more stress for me.
I was a very odd child, looking back on things. While I’ve always been introverted, a bit lone wolf and such… I’d have my really wild moments. I’d have this uncontrollable energy at times. At recess I could get rid of it by suddenly breaking out in a run for no reason whatsoever. If someone gave my troubles, I could do something about it. I always had troubles with guys… even when in kindergarten. Back then, when they annoyed me I could go after them. I could chase them and try to beat them – they were always faster though. When nervous I could chat like mad, become loud and only get a light scolding.
Then when middle school hit… I no longer could get rid of my stress. Sure, at times I did without meaning to, but that always landed me into trouble – one time I even got a detention. Seriously though, it is bloody hard trying to keep still when a burst of mania hits.
I confided with my mom recently that overall, I was in hell back then. Living in such a situation is torture. I had stressors all around, but I couldn’t do anything to fight back. I couldn’t yell, scream, jump up out of my desk and make a run for it… anything. When boys picked on me I couldn’t jump at them, chase them and hopefully at some point beat the crap out of them. I couldn’t do anything. It was like I was a shaken champagne bottle but even when filled up with bubbles I couldn’t even make the top pop off. Then after enough happened… the bottle would break.
There were other things noted… like how my mind developed like a person on drugs. We never quite got into that clearly, but I have determined one thing… I would have been a perfect candidate for the sort who falls into high drug use. My mom thinks… if I had become a druggie, there would have been no hope for me. There is even a likelihood I wouldn’t even be alive today.
Why didn’t I ever fall into such temptations? I have high morals, I have certain expectations in myself, I’m paranoid and I hate things that are required tastes. I guess I had the winning combination.
There was also something noted about brain development. I think it was along the lines of how drug abusers have extremely stunted brain development… and if they never get off them between the ages of teenage-dom to twenty-five… they have no chances of their brain ever being able to grow in regards to learning new things and retaining it. With how my brain works, my stress apparently has a similar effect. I stopped have so many stressors around the time I moved down here… so I have had a chance to have my brain develop as it should. If I had continued college or carried out the things that lead me to dark places… I’d likely be stunted for the rest of my life. That is what I gather anyway. As said, I’m not quite clear on it all.

I am an alien on this Earth. I am humanoid. Everything about me would suggest a complete Earthling. That isn’t so, however. I tick differently than others. Upon growing up, I didn’t feel comfortable in my skin. I saw myself as a regular human and thus tried to be one. I acted upon logic rather than my heart. I was miserable.
Later in life I was able to live how I believe is my true nature. There no longer was the need of calculating, observing and need to try to like everyone else. I was free. I was happy and comfortable with myself finally.

Not many people seem to get that, particularly my head doctor. She sees me as human as her and perhaps would consider my feelings about myself to be negative, hindering and so forth. In all reality, when she encourages me to expand my horizons, search my potentials and the like… she sends me right back to how I was before. I will go along with it. It is my rational side that allows such. I fall back to putting the feelings of others over mine.
I can convince myself with thoughts that there is a positive possibility. Change is necessary for growth and discoveries. I know not the future or what can wait for me there and by staying still, I might never find a happiness greater than the one I posses now.
The problem is, my heart holds no interest in that. My heart only allows these mental arguments to persuade because my heart wishes to please others. It doesn’t overcome my true feelings though.

When younger I thought I was quite a logical, philosophical individual. I hated my emotions and ignored them. I didn’t like to think myself as sensitive or fragile in that aspect. If I allowed such, I’d never make it. Not in this world.
I know better now that it wasn’t hate, however. It was fear and desperation. If I had given into my emotions, allowed them to be truly expressed… I would cause troubles. I’d be crying all the time, worrying or bothering. I would be weak because I just couldn’t handle what everyone else were able to do so easily. My feelings can be hurt as easily as a bubble can pop by seemingly nothing due to its utter fragility.
I am different. I realize this and embrace it. I am at peace when able to live how my emotions wish to. When unable to… I feel trapped.
When I step out of my natural state and try to be like the people about me… it is like before. Breaking down, crying, suddenly disappearing to hide is not acceptable behavior. I must cope. I must endure. I cannot fall into myself or rescue myself. I can only shield and try to make it inch by inch.

First there is pain. I do not allow myself to cry though. No one else about me would cry and feel devastated by such a little thing. Since feelings will only lead to that, I become logical. My mind becomes persuasive and I struggle desperately against a raging tidal wave of emotions. I try to listen to my mind as it controls everything. Most people can control their emotions if they really try. I’ve always tried my damnedest.
Despite such a desperate obstacle, I continue on. The rest of me shuts down. I close off enough so I will not weep. I become rigid and silent. I put all my effort to keep the flood from engulfing me completely. I shut off my heart a bit to keep what control I have in me.
Once I’ve managed to dwindle the flood to a stream, I’ll become mechanical. I am guarded suddenly, because if I am not, the flood can resurface quite quickly. So I carry on, talking to myself, rationalizing with all my might to keep calm. In that I become detached as well, because if I do not do that pain will take a sudden spike again.
And thus, in such a state, a simple doll… I walk among the normal. It is the only way I can survive otherwise. Unlike all the other fish who require water to live… Water simply makes me drown.
That is what it is. I am not dramatizing, I am not fantasizing. It is simply how things are. It is not fear of what could happen that keeps me at distance. It is experience time and time again. No matter how much I can convince myself otherwise with my mind… My heart knows the truth. Inside I know the truth.

For me, pain is the most likely scenario. I don’t expect it every time. I know better. I just know with how I am wired I have a higher chance of that over joy. I know because like how my senses can be rather sensitive on a physical level, my emotions are more so.
To go against my emotions, to sway myself with logic for others… I am that fish who cannot live in water submerging herself to please others. I’ll choke and gasp, but I have managed to hold my breath and find few precious air bubbles often enough so I do not die.
But to do such relentlessly again like how I did in my past… I don’t think I’d be able to survive living like that again. I really don’t.

It isn’t only that, however. To continue such a thing, I would lose myself. I’ve lost myself before. I know that to do as my head doctor asks of me will lead to such a devastating place again. To live like others, I lose myself. I lose my true feelings. I am merely a doll trying to be like all the real boys and girls around me. She doesn’t realize this. If to hear these thoughts, she’d likely think it preposterous. I know myself quite well though. I do not care what one might say about not knowing everything due to the inability to see from the outside. I know enough.
I suppose what I am getting at here is… I do I believe I will die. My soul will die. It was near death once before. I almost lost it completely, but it cried out with its last breath. after all this time it is now revived to its fullest. I don’t want my soul to go through that again. I don’t want parts of it ripped away piece by piece. I don’t want my heart to be stabbed slowly over and over to the point that I fear to be myself and lose my soul.

So yes… a part of me will always fight this… subtly. I don’t fight it with full force… I have not reached such a strength yet. It is stronger than before, though, because before I never would have made a peep to the doctor or my mother. I fight it because in a sense it is a matter of life and death. Because what I wish to keep alive is my true self… my identity, my feelings, my wants, my desires.
Once upon a time I would never consider such. That was because I feared it would make me selfish, putting my wants before those I loved. Now though… now… I think it is okay to. It is okay to because I am protecting a life. I am protecting my life for once. Now that I have found a better world… a world I never saw possible in my bleak youth… I want to keep it.
I’m not strong enough to demand, to truly fight the wants of others… but I have hope… I have hope that one day they will see. They will see this is just me. It will always be me… and they will accept it. They will finally accept it.

Like Van Gogh is quoted, “I wish they would only take me as I am.”

Ah… Wynne… if only you realized your wish to see my potentials only hurt me more than help. Each time I undergo such trials, it makes me take a step back rather than a step forward. You just don’t seem to understand that.

Today I experienced a familiar feeling and from that I learned a new thing about something that has always been me. I saw my head doctor back in January on the twenty-eighth. In the end she and my mother spoke of potential and eventually it was decided that I should try to get out more. Despite my always leery feelings about the matter, I decided to appease them as usual. Most of me knows that if it does have a negative effect, the matter will be put away for a long while.  Then, there is the vague positive, perhaps hopeful side – despite it is mainly run by logic as well – that maybe something positive will come of it. It was the former as usual.
The feeling I experienced was of being in school again. The thing I learned was that I am emotionally sensitive to words and actions of others as I am physically sensitive to various stimuli. I am mentally, physically and emotionally intense. It doesn’t matter the age or gender. It doesn’t matter if I can rationalize the situation, tell myself the likely true scenario… the emotions are there and despite my great efforts, they cannot be ignored.
I almost cried in class. I wanted to get up and leave. I didn’t though. I did that back in school, but that was after going through this process over and over again to the point of a break. By habit I kept myself strong. I would carry out what I came to do. I would not cry, I would not run, I would finish the class and then I would go home. I fulfilled that.
It reminded me of my youth though. In the past I would have been irritable and possibly lash out. Back then I didn’t know how to cry. Well, I know how to now. I kept my tears back, though. Thinking on that, I am sure that is how it all started… my inability to cry back then. I had to be strong. I had to be able to handle what was going around me like everyone else. In the end, I broke substantially.
This is why I avoid such situations… I am sure I will always wind up in the same situation in the end. Why? Because it is how I am wired. I will always be sensitive. In order to not make a fuss, a ruckus, a scene… I keep it all in. I try to act normal. In the end though, the very things I want to do at the time do come out, but by then they are like the genie in the bottle. They come out in an overflowing burst. They are like an erupting volcano and very bad things happen.
Today I saw the beginning of that small build up. It was over a little thing. I could see it was a little thing. For my mind and my heart however, the pain, humiliation, indignation, frustration and anger could not be soothed by rational thoughts, logic and explanations.
When working against something that is difficult, I tend to berate myself and the work. It is a habit I’ve possessed since little and still possess now. I suppose in my case it is a sort of reverse psychology. If I say such things, I won’t truly be disappointed if it doesn’t work out as hoped. Then there is the concept of how drill sergeants yell and berate their cadets.
The teacher didn’t know me and thus wouldn’t understand me. I know that. I’d only see her for one day. I know that. This wasn’t a class that was being graded. I know that. I just work my own way.
She teased me about expecting to suddenly be a master artist from that simple beginner’s class. That affronted me greatly. I never expected such a thing. She made a comment about my having to yet learn that valuable lesson more or less. This being said to the other four women taking the class her were pretty much as old as the teacher or older. They had kids and possible even grandkids.
That angered, hurt and humiliated me. I wanted to know what gave her the right to judge me so. Yes, I was well younger than half their age, but that didn’t mean I was so naïve, so ignorant, so immature…
Then after something regarding my comments over my progress she teased again and told me to “dwell on it” as though I were a troublesome child who had a valuable lesson to learn about art.
Perhaps one would say I am naïve, ignorant or immature. I likely am that quite a bit. However, I think she could have had the decency not to insult me to offhandedly. I would have appreciated it greatly if she didn’t make it a lighthearted joke that amused the others.
By the end of that, my emotions were in turmoil. Tears prickled in my eyes and truthfully I fought over just standing and leaving right there without a word to get a hold of myself. One might say I was being immature right then. Well, whatever…
I stayed though. The class cost a decent amount of my monthly paycheck, my mom bought the supplies for me and I was going to finish what I started. So, after working and getting a handle on myself, I reduced myself to the occasionally sniffles and just focused on getting the assignments over with. I wondered if any of them noticed a change in mood about the air that surrounded me. I doubted it with how they acted.
Before that I made comments, rambled things… but by then… I figured, “Why bother?” I wasn’t an equal in their eyes. I was only going to see them that one class. Thus, I was silent, no nonsense and merely did things rather mechanically by then.
I eased up near the end of the class. I would try again, but on a more distant level. I made vague conversation with one lady. I found she was a fellow “hermit”. She didn’t seem to care for the watercolor medium either. Small chat was fine.
After that I asked the teacher to do a repeat example on the lesson I was muttering the most about as it was difficult or very displeasing to me. Then I stayed to hear the women talk for a while before departing. I felt I did enough for the rest of the session despite the poor results of the middle part. I decided I had no intentions to ever do another painting class under her again, however.
In all of that, I learned… It doesn’t matter who the person is. The age, the gender, the ethnicity, whatever… it doesn’t matter. I’ll always be sensitive. I am sure there are ways of therapy for coping… but I do my own coping. Coping only eases. It doesn’t get rid of.
I have another class in March. My mother says I don’t have to go. I’m sure I could get my money back too if I were to withdraw. I’ll go though. It was decided. I’ll stick to it. It is a different class and will have a different teacher. I doubt I’ll be working with any one near my age, though. I’ll see how I do. Perhaps I’ll enjoy it to some extent. If it turns out like today’s… well, I’ll survive it and know I tried. I always try and will continue to even if there is pain… because pain is always inevitable… just as happiness is.

Well, Sunday I wound up being in one of my fogged dispositions. My brother and his girlfriend came as noted. We had an okay dinner, but I was really out of it so by the time it was over and the food had settled, I hit the bed. Monday to Wednesday are really a blur by now.
Thursday my parents and I went to the mall for hair cuts. We left around nine, got there around eleven and ate at a Denny’s restaurant. After that we went in. Mom and I had appointments at twelve. When I was through, my dad and I wandered. We ran a look out for a certain toy my mom was interested in getting for her new puppy. We didn’t find it, so we continued a more languid wandering. We hit the bookstore for a while. Dad bought me a smoothie afterward and we checked a Brookstone store to see if there was anything my eldest brother might like.
After that we checked in on mom. She was done and so headed to a candle store. She made a purchase or two and then we headed off to the pet stores again for her to look at something. After making two purchases there, we decided to head back home. We got back at five and after settling back down, dad ordered Chinese. The evening ended rather normal, other than that my mom was able to stay up late since it was her first day of winter vacation.
Friday is a blur to me… I believe I got up, fed the cats, did some chores, ate breakfast and wound up falling asleep again at some point. Then noon time came around and I heard whining. Yep, I woke up to the arrival of the new puppy. He whined most of the afternoon away. I think I either hid out or I slept some more due to the likely headache he caused me. Fortunately, he quieted down more once night arrived since he was getting used to the change by then.
I don’t remember the weekend, but I’m sure it went the same as usual minus the new puppy to tend to. He would whine like mad when put into his kennel at night and then around twelve to one he wakes up and whines to be let out. Thing is, I’m not getting the worst of it in that scenario. My parents are in the room with him when he does that. I’m on the other side of the house and simply hear him.
Well, he’s settling in. The other dogs are having some problems with him at times still and my mother’s other dog sulked and growled a lot in the beginning… they are lightening up on him a bit and my dad’s dog has shown a great deal of maturity and patience. It just makes a person proud of him.
My cat is green to all of this. He is the second youngest pet we have and unlike the other cats, he has never experienced the bringing home of a new baby pet. So… for the longest time he has been hiding out in my room and sleeping the day in here. I like it, but it does worry me since there is no litter box in here and he doesn’t get as much water since he prefers to drink from a faucet rather than a bowl. Well, fortunately on Tuesday he decided to venture out more.
Today was a busy day. We went on a shopping expedition in a small town made for shopping. It was my parents and me. We hit my mom’s usual shop sights and a few that she doesn’t always go to but likes to check out and then at lunch at a German-themed restaurant. After doing a few more stops after that, we headed home.
Upon reaching home, I hit the bed though. I had a headache since eight and was just out of it… so… yeah. I woke up around five, got up and did some chores. The rest of the evening was typical… made something to eat, watched shows with mom and did some more chores…
Mom took her older dog to the vet today while I napped. He has one bad ear infection going on and will need surgery. A specialist will be contacted, if I am not mistaken. He’s on antibiotics right now I believe. Said meds cost one hundred ten bucks. I hope her dog getting some sort of infection that requires surgery later doesn’t become a tradition for this time of year in later years. Actually, it kind of reminds me of how I always got the flu on Christmas Eve or the ungodly hours of the morning on Christmas Day when little…
Anyway, now I’m here… Typing away…
Oh… yeah… since my last entry my trichotillomania has acted up again. I think I’ve pulled out more hair than ever before this past week. My mom asks if it is the puppy or if it is because she’s been home… I tell her I have no idea. Consciously I am just fine. Subconsciously, I don’t know. I figure it is a subconscious thing, anyway. Some people have dreams… Me… I cut or pull my hair out… I think the hair tends to come first… cutting is usually a far into it sort of thing.
Am I worried? Not really. Some day my hair might not grow back in that area though. That’d suck. I told Mom if that happens some point in the future, I might have to get the bald spot tattooed in black ink. She noted a wig. I’m using my hat for the moment.
Hmm… if not mistaken the day after tomorrow I’ll be seeing Mrs. Wynne. The hair pulling thing will likely become a topic of discussion. Oh, well. After that my mom and dad will have to go to a work related Christmas gathering. The weekend should be the usual… and… I’ll be another year older come next week. Funny thing is, my mom is going back on that day. I wonder if she planned it that way. I’ve teased her on that in any case.

Well, this past Monday my sister visited. The night before I got to cleaning bed sheets, blankets and so forth. I spent the majority of the night doing such and went to sleep around the time my parents woke up. I was up to answer the door when my sister dropped by. It was around two.
I finished up my chores then and my dad then came home around three. The rest of the time was just a blur really. I kept to myself and my dad took my sister out two times for reasons I still am not quite sure about.
Around four fifteen we all got in the car to pick up my mom then. We got her at four thirty-something and then headed back home. After getting refreshed all of us headed out to eat Mexican food. This is of course because my sister was here. It is pretty funny since the family ate Mexican three nights before on Friday.
Well, we all ate satisfying meals and then headed back for home.
The rest of the night is a blur again… I know my mom and I watched some television. I have no idea what my sister was up to. What happened after that, I am not sure… I might have gone to sleep, I might have done chores… Who knows?
Well, Tuesday I was out of it. I never even saw my sister. She was gone before I was up again. I really don’t remember much of it.
Wednesday was bloody busy though. My mom had off for work yesterday. So… I got up around seven thirty, fed the cats, ate breakfast and did what chores I could get done, done.  Mom woke up not too long after. After she got all her things done, she took a shower and we started out day of errands.
First we dropped her dog off at the groomers. After that we headed to Home Depot to get some plant covers for cold weather. We then headed to the outlet mall where they were having a sale. We arrived five minutes before the doors opened, so we waited a while. Upon entering she got to work selecting shoes for the change of weather to come along. I merely wandered.
Well, she got her shoes, so we headed across the street then to get dog things to prepare for the puppy coming in next week. We got some chew toys, hair care products, food dishes and a new comb for the cats. They didn’t have the puppy food we were looking for, however.
Well, after that, I believe we stopped by Walgreens. She went there to stock up on candy. She gets a ton of candy to take to work. She doesn’t eat it, but her “kids” do. Her co-workers do as well.
When that was completed, I think we went to the Crafts store then. We went there to get fake flowers to turn into bouquets. This Thanksgiving holiday well will take a day out to visit my grandparents’ graves.
When that was done we then headed to s small grocery store to pick up some supplies for Thursday’s meal. We needed rice, chips, dip and to get some coffee creamer for my dad since he was running out. It was a rather easy task.
Around then it was twelve. We decided to stop back at home, unload our purchases and let the other dog, Auggie, out. Mom also needed to get a checkbook to make a deposit later. So, while she did her thing, I put the things hauled in up or at least in order and got a drink of water.
When all was set, we headed out again. This time we stopped at a different pet store. They had the food. It took a while to find, but we got it. There was also the need for birdseed, so four large bags of animal food was in order.
With that taken care of, we headed out further, this time to take a break and eat lunch. It was pretty cool. I got a smoothie and a turkey sandwich while my mom got tea and a veggie sandwich.
What wasn’t cool as the bee that was next to us. While waiting on our food, I asked for a plastic cup and with it I entrapped the bee. Sadly, I had trouble in the plan after that. I tried using a napkin as a shield, but that didn’t work to well. A worker there kindly handed over a piece of paper for an ad. I still struggled until the girl helped out. In the end, the bee was placed back outside and my mom and I were able to eat in peace.
With that breather, we headed out once more. We stopped at a bank on the way back and my mom made her deposit.
With those things done, we went back home. I got to work on the fake flowers, turning them into arrangements decent enough to put on my grandparents graves. While I did that my mom got her dog and eventually took him to the vet for a check up. I finished the task around the time she returned. She thought they turned out great. I asked about her dog and he seems to be all good, but he could still have healthier ears.
Well, I vacuumed then and finally had to rest for a moment. My cat was in my room and on the bed, so I plunked on down and petted him until my mom was ready to head out again. We were off to pick up tomorrow night’s meal. We had ordered some tamales. Yes, that was to be our meal on Thursday.
It was after that did I begin to drift off. Mom stopped by a shop to pick up some scones and then headed to deal with something about her glasses.
We got back home at five and by then I deemed it time to get in a nap. I hit the bed and slept until seven-thirty. After hugging my dad, my mom had me join her to watch TV the rest of the time. I’m not sure when I went to bed again.
Thursday I woke up at seven. I fed the cats, ate breakfast and then dusted the living room. Mom woke up then and I headed on to her room. Since the bed was unmade I only dusted half of the room.
Mom eventually settled back into bed to read and spend time with her dog. So, I got onto a project I had been meaning to do for a while. I pulled a chair out of the way and worked on dusting and reorganizing a forgotten bookcase. Boy that was dusty. I got it all in order though.
After that my mom got up and wanted me to help her with covering the plants with the covers we got the day before. I obliged. When it was all done and settled, I headed back in and finished up the rest of the dusting since the bed was finally made and I could put things on it. After that, I took a shower to get all the dust off me.
I felt pretty out of it all day… so everything is basically a blur. I know I stayed up well enough, but that I rested and at times might have dozed briefly. Well, when I finally decided to take a nap, my mom comes along to tell me dinner was ready. It was three thirty in the afternoon. Sigh.
I got up, ate three cheese tamales and some rice. This isn’t our official Thanksgiving dinner mind you. We will be doing that on Sunday. Since the entire family is unable to come today, that was the decision. So, my eldest brother and his girlfriend will come along then and we’ll get all traditional.
Still, it is pretty nuts if you ask me. We had three big meals of Mexican food for a week. Hello variety at its finest?
Anyway, after eating, I cleaned up what I could and come five o’clock I finally got in some sleep. Yes, I still felt less than wonderful even then. So… I slept from then until around nine thirty or so. Pretty much I woke up around the time my mom went to bed.
Well… I took a shower, at the left over rice from dinner and cleaned up the dishes that piled up in the sink during my sleep fest. After meandering on the internet for a while, I decided it was high time to record all of this down.
This isn’t the end of it though. Tomorrow my mom, dad and I will be heading off to the cemetery that holds my grandparents. It is about two… maybe three hours or so away. Yep, the bouquets I worked on Wednesday afternoon shall be put to use tomorrow. My mom thinks we’ll be leaving at ten.
Saturday will be cooking and preparation day. Food will be put into the first stages of preparations and the house will be cleaned, all in the sake of having guests over for family time. We’ll likely be having turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, rolls and who know what the other stuff will be?
Sunday will of course be the big day. My brother and his girlfriend will be over. My sister can’t make it. She couldn’t make it on Thursday and she won’t be able to make it on Sunday… She might come by on Monday though. I really have no idea.
Next month will start of quite busy as well. On the second we’ll be going on our hair expedition and the next day we’ll be welcoming the new puppy…

Oh lord… Vacation time my foot!

Well, around the beginning of this month my mom had spoken of wanting a chocolate lab. What spurred this on was seeing one at the vet when she took her dog in. Well, my dad has a colleague at work who knew a guy whose yellow lab recently had a litter of puppies. She had all colors… yellow, brown and black.
Anyway, this past Sunday we went to see them. They were cute. Mom was taken by a plump chocolate boy with a black collar on. I had my share of puppies coming to me… certain ones… there was the oldest, a chubby black lab who seemed to like me a great deal, and a pair of chocolates… a little sister and brother. I took to the brother. He was small and liked to tug on my shoe laces.
Well, despite my mom’s adoration of the older and bigger of the chocolates, she ended up getting the one I was fond of. She says so far I’ve been a good judge of animals. I warned her I’ve only selected cats, so it was still a gamble and that she should pick the one that she likes. After all, it will be her dog. There is chemistry and all of that to consider. The animal that calls to you the most is the best bet to go for, I say. She still said she trusted my judgment. Meh.
Well, she put in a check for him and we’ll be able to bring him home one the second of December when he is old enough to leave his mother. I’m relatively leery. We already have two big dogs in this house and they can be hard to navigate through at times. It is all good and fine when the pup is still a baby… but when he gets bigger… oh, that leaves me groaning at the concept. I can only hope my mom will train him well.
She’s named him McArthur. I could be wrong on the spelling though… It could be MacArthur. She intends to call him Macky. Heh. His full name made me groan. MacArthur of Mocha Persuasion is what she decided. She told me the excuse… pedigrees have “exotic” names. I say big, fat, hairy deal. That name is not justifiable. Heh.
Oh, well… her dog.
Sigh…
Another dog. It would be so much better if we had more room and a bigger backyard…

While dusting today I recalled last night. Mom and I were watching television as usual and in one scene a young detective was trying to work a suspect in the interrogation room. Serious and uptight, the suspect constantly goaded him because of that seriousness and in turn was amused by his ever so serious responses because it was obvious he was just becoming more infuriated
Seeing that, I thought, “I was likely played like that when in school.” Serious, uptight and paranoid… yeah, I fit the role well. With how others teased me… my anger and serious ways likely just amused them all the more. Oh, well.
Anyway, that led to another discovery I made a while back. My “peers” likely also saw me as a psycho. I had never thought of that possibility, but apparently… yeah… I think I likely was relatively psychotic back then as well. Despite knowing this, I find I wouldn’t change that.
If there is any truth I have come to believe in, it is the sincerity of emotions. I believe I should never regret those because they were how I truly felt at the time. Emotions don’t lie… only our perceptions of them and whatever reasons we create for their presence at the time can be.
I also don’t regret because in that, I had met Kyle. During that time I was hurting a great deal and from that hurt came the psychotic ways. Despite that, he was my friend.
We don’t see each other much anymore. We haven’t seen ach other in person for five years and around seven months. We kept contact over the internet though, but even that is dwindling. Despite that, I’m sure if he ever changes emails, he will let me know. I trust him, I believe.
Trust means a lot to me.
Despite the absence, the fact that we never lost a connection that says, “you can still find me whenever necessary” is what sealed the deal. I can’t recall if it was a promise or not, but he said he would be there always. I was uncertain of that five years ago. Now… I think I believe it completely.
The uncertainty back then? He knows why it was there. Times before with friends… such promises were empty. There was always separation. I expected in due time… be it months to years… he’d disappear like all the others. He hasn’t though. Every once in a while he sends signs of life. It is comforting.
Somewhere in the time frame of my dusting this morning a thought crossed my mind. I made a silent promise to myself once. I’d never try to kill myself again as long as someone needed me to remain on this earth. That came along after thinking how… if it wasn’t for Kyle, I actually wouldn’t be here today.
Anyway, I thought, “If I ever fall back to such desperation again… I‘ll make sure to contact him. I‘ll ask him, ‘Do you still need me around?’” Well, it would be something like that, anyway. I realized I decided that because I do believe his word. I believe that even in the far future, decades by now… I’ll still be able to contact him. I trust his word. It astounds me a bit… but it makes me happy.
I never thought such was possible.
Even though we don’t see each other much… I realize now that Kyle gives me hope.